


Lesson learned

by triplezzz



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: M/M, au with parallels to canon, unedited word vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 05:51:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14846996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triplezzz/pseuds/triplezzz
Summary: 4 times Zhengting learned something from other people + 1 time he taught someone in return





	Lesson learned

Xukun is young, but he makes it easy to forget that fact. He’s self-assured and not at all arrogant. Appears cold yet makes no attempt to hide the warmth. The assumption – the expectation is that people flock to him like moths to flame, but he burns so brightly at a distance seemingly so far away many give up before they even take the flight. In reality, he never pulls away when someone gives enough effort to come closer.

Zhengting wears his emotions on his sleeve and comes barrelling wherever he pleases. He holds no reservation in approaching someone, but he won’t come just to anyone.

In theory, left to their own devices, their paths should not intersect. Call it coincidence or call it fate, it leads him to discover a boy quiet and wise beyond his years, and Zhengting is nothing but intrigued.

Perseverance. In a sea of differences, it’s easier to find a common factor. He bewilders Xukun as much as the boy bemuses him, but when things align and both find themselves on the same line, it’s fascinating how well they work together. Xukun leads, and Zhengting supports.

It’s this lack of distance that allows him to observe and wonder. But wonder teeters into envy – not of all the praise love and respect he gets, because Xukun is worthy of every single amount, but of the boy’s awareness of it.

When Xukun cries, it’s because he knows he has earned those tears. When Zhengting cries, it’s because he couldn’t contain all the repressed sorrow, hurt and weariness anymore. Because Zhengting may wear his emotions on his sleeve, but he hides his heart beneath layers upon layers. Xukun does it the other way around. He does it with such natural ease Zhengting couldn’t help the jealousy that pangs his chest when self-doubts threaten to drown him and he looks to the side to see someone so sure, so certain.

“I get nervous too,” he starts abruptly, one day when Zhengting has been unusually quiet. The hesitance is visible and audible. Despite that, all wariness clears out of him once he catches Zhengting glancing at him, replaced by understanding eyes, warm and firm.

“When you start questioning yourself, there’s no end to it. But I tell myself that I deserve this.” There’s no pity or sugar coating in his voice, in his words, sincere and spoken like an undeniable truth. “You deserve it too.”

Frailty doesn’t dissipate that easily. There’s still that voice at the back of his mind, the load in his chest, the haunting hounding thoughts. But every time it starts to overwhelm he thinks of Xukun’s words and borrows a little conviction until he can build and trust his own.

What Xukun taught him was confidence.

*

It’s an unforeseen combination, him and Xingjie. No one expects them to get along as well as they do, but they do, and the look on everyone’s face when he sneaks his hand around Xingjie’s arm or when Xingjie slings an arm around his shoulder is enough of a reason to upkeep the friendship. But it’s never been that shallow for both of them. It’s inexplicable even to himself how they manage to click so well in so little time, each having heard of the other through mutual friends and never meeting until one chance encounter and suddenly he can’t remember how he used to spend gruelling hours on end without Xingjie’s constant presence.

Xingjie carries with him an aura that deters most people away. He is intimidating, especially when he wants to be, but the numerous greetings that follow his entrance are always warm and jovial. Although Xingjie is stern, he is patient and knows how to read the atmosphere, knows when to continue pushing and when to give a break. Knows how to join in on the fun, to find enjoyment in hard days like the rest of them do.

But some days are harder than others, so he locks the practice room, crouches to the floor that has absorbed his sweat time and time again and begins crying in earnest. The sounds of metal jingling, door unlocking; Zhengting has completely forgotten about another set of keys in another person’s hand. He’s scrambling to wipe at his face when footsteps skid to a halt.

A part of him is mortified by having Xingjie out of all people find him in this state – Xingjie, who has gone through the same experience more times than anyone should have. But Xingjie looks at him with piercingly clear eyes and Zhengting once again grows ashamed of his own thoughts.

He holds his breath when Xingjie drops his bag and makes his way inside, towards him. There’s no warning before Xingjie ruffles his hair, palm pressing into his scalp at the last second for good measure. “Cry it out. You’re going to eat to your heart’s content, have the longest, deepest, best sleep in forever, and wake up tomorrow to try again.”

They go for barbecue and beer. Zhengting can’t remember what happens after his fifth serving, but he wakes up to swollen face and even more swollen eyes on top of a hangover. Xingjie takes one look at him and laughs uncharacteristically hard until his head hits the doorway, although in Zhengting’s opinion he really doesn’t look that much better. They have spicy ramen as breakfast to sweat it out and afterwards walk to the practice room together.

The day starts and ends just like any other. He’s so, so tired, but Xingjie pats his back without even looking and just like that his determination burns slightly brighter.

What Xingjie taught him was courage.

**

Everyone thinks he’s a man of few words, but Wenjun talks a lot. Zhengting is one of the people privileged to know this side of him. He calls him a chatterbox and rambles to the disbelieving looks around the table about how talkative the man could be; all the while Wenjun sits by his side and smiles quietly. Nobody believes him.

Even when he’s not talking, Wenjun is loud. He can go for hours playing with his yoyo, creating noises with the friction and flicks of his fingers. It’s to the point Zhengting will feel something amiss when he doesn’t hear the familiar sounds, flicking past the pages of his book wondering about his whereabouts more than reading. Then Wenjun returns, takeaway boxes in tow with an easy smirk that’s sparked misunderstandings among others before when it really is just the way he smiles sometimes – and Zhengting welcomes him with an excited clap and sparkling eyes.

He never takes part in arguments, never gives an opinion in discussions, preferring to sit back and wait until others reach a solution and goes along with it, and he might be fooling everyone but Zhengting think that’s loud, too. It’s so clear to him when Wenjun doesn’t actually agree, in the way his shoulders rise as if about to speak and drop the next second, already giving up without ever trying. How he tunes out when it gets heated and people start talking in circles, probably wishing he’d taken his yoyo with him or thinking about what to eat for later.

“You can’t go wrong if you go with the flow,” Wenjun tells him once when Zhengting couldn’t hold back the question. Nonchalantly, as if he hasn’t just accepted a decision to his disadvantage mere moments ago. Zhengting wants to argue, but one look at Wenjun and he knows whatever he says couldn’t ever possibly change his mind. In his own ways, Wenjun is the most stubborn person Zhengting has ever known.

Sometimes he thinks he can see something in Wenjun’s eyes, in the way he stares at him when their night talks stretch into dawns. The rare times in the midst of business they allow themselves to be children, when Wenjun catches him as Zhengting jumps away even when he’s been found hiding in the washing machine. Zhengting shrieks when Wenjun’s arm winds around his waist, pulling him back and laughing just as loudly, and they gaze at each other for seconds on end, enough time for Zhengting to think about pressing his lips to the smiling pair so close to him.

But he knows of the girl waiting for him back home – all long hair and dainty figure and beautiful smile, a perfect match for Wenjun – and laughs at his own silly delusion. So Zhengting never lets his touches linger. Never looks into his eyes for too long, although all he wants to do is drown in them.

What Wenjun taught him was restraint.

***

Looking at Yanchen is like looking into a distorted mirror. He has said to the man words people have told him often times before; and thus when he gets the response, differently phrased from his own but carrying the same meaning, he frowns, opens his mouth, recognises the irony and swallows back the phrase at the tip of his tongue. It’s like a déjà vu, only this time he's reliving the moment in the other party’s pair of shoes.

It’s a weird feeling, discovering just how exasperating he must’ve been for the people around him by experiencing the situation first hand. Realisation robs him of the right to berate Yanchen, so he settles for a little defiance of his own, forcing Yanchen to sit down before he begins massaging the man’s legs.

Yanchen immediately makes a move to stop him, but Zhengting swats his hand away without a word. He works through the knots up Yanchen’s calves, pout gradually and unconsciously getting bigger as he feels how tense the muscles are. The chuckles are fond and soft – Zhengting is too focused on his self-assigned task to register them on time, so he doesn't see the fingers coming up to pinch at his jutting lower lip. It stops all of his movements, his heart skipping a beat from shock more than anything, and Yanchen grins at him, bright and brilliant even through tired eyes and sunken cheeks.

“Thank you. It feels much better now.” The surprise simmers into relief and a small sense of accomplishment at those words, but Yanchen curbs it down guiltlessly within his very next breath. “You go on ahead. I’m not very sleepy.”

And he wants to get mad, wants to scold and lecture and drag him to his bed, but he knows Yanchen would find a way to sneak out and come back to this place. He too would have done the same.

So Zhengting relents but he doesn't back down. He tells himself to get as much sleep as he can, because one sick person is better than two.

He's woken up by retching noises in the morning, hazy feet dashing out of bed to see Yanchen bending over the sink, lurching out the contents of his already empty stomach.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Yanchen winks, wiping traces of bile around his mouth, and Zhengting’s heart clenches.

All throughout the day, Yanchen waves off worried looks and questions and goes on to complete his set. Away from the backstage, in the deserted corner outside the building, he collapses into Zhengting’s arms and laughs as Zhengting shoves a lollipop in his mouth.

“Don't do this again,” he warns, but it's a plea.

“Okay,” answers Yanchen, although they both know it's a lie.

What Yanchen taught him was selfishness.

****

It’s out of selfishness that he says ‘I love you’ on the night of his birthday party, when everybody has gone to sleep and they’re sitting on the couch, covered in crumbs of snacks and dried patches of spilled drinks. Out of courage and a splash of confidence after an eternity of restraint.

Because he thinks there might be a chance for happiness in this, and he thinks he deserves it. And even if Yanchen doesn't feel the same, Zhengting trusts him enough to believe they'll remain the way they are despite it all. Because he doesn't want to live with the regret and what-ifs, Zhengting confesses and waits.

And when Yanchen tells him ‘I love you too’, rushed, repeatedly, as if he’s afraid the moment will fleet and the statement retracted, Zhengting gives him an easy smile that comes all but effortlessly. Then he tugs on Yanchen’s shirt and closes his eyes, smiles wider as their lips meet and move and meld.

What Zhengting taught Yanchen, was indulgence.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a spur of the moment thing it's unedited and there's probably a ton of mistakes but hhhh I just had to finish it. And I actually like all Zhengting pairings but when it comes down to actually writing it I somehow always end up choosing Yanchen lmao.


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